


Bad Idea

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:50:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6867166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bad idea or not, Severus can't resist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Written for HP_May_Madness' 2016 fest.   
>  Day Fifteen prompt(s) used: Prompts: Left to my own devise, I probably would  
> Think, miss, salt  
> Kink: Voyeurism
> 
> **Beta(s):** Sevfan and Emynn.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

Bad Idea

~

You know it’s a bad idea, but when he slips out of the castle, you follow him at a distance. Ever since his return, your obsession with him has returned, too, and despite Albus’ admonitions, despite Minerva’s knowing looks, you can’t seem to let it go. 

It’s yet the full moon that night, at least you checked that this time you remind yourself as you follow him deep into the Forbidden Forest. 

It’s late afternoon, and he seems to find his way easily, you less so. You stumble several times, sure you’re making enough noise to betray yourself, yet he doesn’t seem to notice, focussed as he is on whatever goal. 

You almost miss it when he stops in a clearing, and you’re fortunate that you stop just in time to avoid stumbling in upon him. 

Standing behind a tree, you watch as he reaches into his pockets and unpacks…a picnic tea? It’s a simple one, boiled eggs, a couple of sandwiches, some fairy cakes, and a vacuum flask of tea. 

After spreading a tattered blanket onto the ground upon which to sit, he liberally salts his eggs, slowly chewing as he contemplates…something. He’s placed his back against a tree and looks quite comfortable, more comfortable than you feel, anyway. 

You feel foolish. You were sure his trip was going to be of a more clandestine nature. Plus, you realise as you watch him make his way through the food, you’re missing your own tea. 

You’ve just about given up, when he stretches, and, without even a by your leave, undoes his trousers. 

Your breath catches as he pulls out his prick. It’s thick, impressive even though still flaccid, and all thoughts of leaving disappear. 

He’s clearly come prepared for a nice, leisurely wank since he’s even brought lotion, and as he spills it over his hand and begin to stroke himself to hardness, the scent of citrus wafts towards you. 

Left to your own devices you would probably slink back to the castle, but this is too good to pass up, and as the dappled sun comes through the trees, he looks relaxed, almost happy, as he tugs himself. 

You don’t plan it, but before you can think, your hand is inside your own trousers, your cock is in your hand, and you’re masturbating right along with him. 

While you have no lotion, it’s fine, your pre come smoothes the way, and as you watch, eyes riveted on his hand as it moves faster and faster over his erection, you try to match him stroke for stroke. 

He leans his head back against the tree, and you eye his neck, almost overwhelmed by the urge to lick and suck there. 

What would he do, you wonder, if you were to burst out of the trees, lean down, press your own cock against his, and come all over him?

His hand quickens, his panting escalating and he starts to mutter. 

Breath stuttering in your throat, you wank faster, too, until, with a choked cry, he comes, his cock spurting all over his hand and the blanket. 

It only takes another few pulls and you, too, are coming, seeing stars as you do. You close your eyes, bite back your own moans, and catch your breath, and when you come back to yourself, it’s to hear him say, “Next time, Severus, you should join me.”

Eyes wide, you back away and, not taking any care to hide your retreat, you crash through the underbrush, running back to the castle, not stopping until you’re safely ensconced in your room. As you collapse into your chair, you close your eyes, remembering how he’d looked coming in the forest, and you moan. 

There won’t be a next time you tell yourself, but you know you’re lying. 

~


End file.
